Spells & Death

by Rachel Medhurst

  A grunt escaped him as he started to fall. I was about to go in, my dagger angled down, my arm ready to pin him to the ground, just like Kate had taught me. Before I could move, he clicked his fingers and flashed to the other side of the room.

  “I don’t want to fight you,” he said. “I want to-”

  I should’ve given him time to talk, to reveal himself in words, but my blood was boiling in my veins, the sweat exploding from my pores. No, he would not get a chance to blackmail me. I would take him down. Now.

  My foot was up on the chair, my other leg rebounding from the desk, my arms extended with my dagger clasped between my hands. The man wouldn’t know what had hit him. Except, he threw up a barrier spell, laughing when I crashed into it. Collapsing on the desk, I groaned as my arse hit the wooden surface.

  “Until next time,” he muttered as he got close to my face.

  He smelt familiar somehow. The strong smell of old leather crept up my nose as the bright red demon face blurred before it puffed into nothing. He was gone.

  Launching off the desk, I checked around me, my dark hair flicking in my face. My breath was heavy, my chest rising and falling as I stood for a moment, trying to regain my senses. He knew my secret, which meant only one thing.

  I had to find him, and kill him, otherwise he would rat me out. If that happened, I would not only be fired from my job at Paranormal MI5, I would be asked to disconnect from the ley line. Not even my mother could save me. My life would end. Literally.

  Chapter 6

  “Gemma?”

  My mother’s voice was quiet, the music bursting through my earbuds drowning her out. She’d called me an hour before and requested that I join her. She had given me the details of where she was, refusing to tell me why she wanted me there.

  Jemima Abbott had married my father when they were young, the union arranged by the ancestors. She had been pleased with her man, but it hadn’t lasted. Not long after I was born, he got involved with warlocks. Being an Essex witch, he had access to the ley line, but he took it for granted. He was killed by a warlock when he refused to give them a hit of his magic. I never regretted not knowing him.

  “Please,” she said, taking hold of one of my earbuds and tugging it out of my ear. “Can you be polite and turn your music off? What rubbish are you listening to anyway?”

  Clearing my throat to avoid answering her question with a sly immature quip, I did as she said. My gaze traced her dark, almost black hair. Her mother had been the senseless Essex witch who’d kidnapped and drained witches of their magic. My cousin Devon from the Hunted Witch Agency had taken our grandmother down, but it had left a bitter taste in my mother’s mouth. She hadn’t spoken to her sister for a long time. When she’d married a warlock, my aunt Julia Jinx had basically been disowned. My mother couldn’t support her, considering her role in Paranormal MI5, so they’d agreed to keep their distance. My mother hadn’t been very supportive when I’d run into my cousin for the first time, but I didn’t care. Our jobs meant that we would cross paths every now and again. I didn’t hold a grudge, that wasn’t my style.

  “What have we got?” I asked my mum as I tucked my earbuds away.

  She didn’t appreciate the rock music I listened to. I was a person of eclectic tastes. Sometimes I fancied some hip hop, other times heavy metal just hit the right spot. No wonder my mother was confused by me.

  The police tape across the station entryway made it clear that something was going on. Had a paranormal person revealed themselves? My mother rarely came out of the MI5 building, so it had to be something serious.

  “Gemma...” Waving a hand in front of me, my mother forced me to look at her. “...you seem distant. Is everything okay?”

  After switching off my emotions the day before, I’d gone in search of Dave. I hadn’t told him what had happened with the masked man, so he didn’t argue when I said that we needed to get into work. The case was important. I couldn’t worry about the man until he made contact. And, he would. Not many witches made threats without following through.

  “I’m fine, just had a late night.”

  My mother glanced down at my T-shirt, blinking as she shook her head. As her mouth opened, I knew that she’d read it. It gave me a thrill to see the disapproval on her pristine face. The T-shirt read: You’ve read my T-shirt. That’s enough socialisation for one day.

  “Really, Gemma? Is that appropriate for work?”

  My mother and I had the type of relationship that meant when she judged me, I rebelled. Her old fashioned views meant that her beliefs were rigid. Not only had she assigned me to Dave because he was technically an Essex witch, although from a very different line to mine, she had insisted that I prepare myself for my engagement.

  “Mother, I’m here to work. Please, tell me what’s going on in the train station?”

  Grabbing my arm as Logan Hill, the police detective, came out of the building, she squeezed hard. “It’s almost time. If you put it off any longer, I’m going to find him without you.”

  Trying my best not to rip her hand off, just for the sheer cheek of manhandling me, I moved to stare directly into her eyes. She was shorter than me, her small frame coming from her mother’s side. Even Devon was petite like them. I had inherited some of my father’s height, which was a positive thing in this exact moment.

  “I’ve told you. I’m not marrying some man that dad made a deal with!”

  Her stance was defiant, her power radiating through the glare that held my own. She wouldn’t back down. She had some superstitious fear that my father’s gambling debt would come back to haunt us. Before he’d died, he’d promised me as a wife to some witch’s son. He had lost the bet, and not long after, he’d been killed.

  “It’s not the man he made a deal with, it’s his son!” she hissed.

  Logan approached, which gave me the opportunity to break away from her. She retreated, going over to her driver and indicating that he take her back to the building. We often had these exchanges. She would show her face to prove to the police that those high up were taking note. It was just a face they put on it. I was the one who did the hard work.

  “What was that about?” Dave said in my ear.

  Oh crap, how had I forgotten he was there, again? No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to be able to remember that he was my eyes and ears too.

  “Next time,” I whispered into the mic attached to my T-shirt. “Remind me that you’re connected when my mum’s around. I’m embarrassed that you heard that.”

  “Gemma,” Logan greeted, offering his hand.

  Shaking it, I nodded a hello. He sighed as he scratched his thin chin. “We should probably go straight in.”

  The detective was grim, which was unlike him. His professional manner was usually stoic, yes, but today, his energy was heavy. Which meant that whatever was inside the station had got to his emotions. That didn’t bode well.

  “Incoming,” Dave said as a motorcycle pulled up near us.

  Kate and Jake both waved before they climbed off. The seer had her helmet off before Jake even had a chance to put the stand on the bike.

  “We came as soon as you called,” she said, fluffing her tight curls as she joined us.

  We moved as a unit, Jake catching up as soon as his bike was safe. He’d asked me if I could put a protection spell on it as soon as we’d started working together. Of course, I’d agreed. Anything to try and make my team comfortable.

  “What are we looking at?” Jake asked, his nose flaring suddenly. “Blood.”

  The last word was muttered under his breath, but I heard him. So did Kate. Her gaze shot to him, her brown eyes widening.

  “We have a female again.” Indicating that we go under the police tape, Logan cringed when we all came into the building.

  What was making him so affected?

  “What the hell?” Kate muttered.

  My eyes landed on what they were staring at. The station was an old fashioned one on the outskirts of London. I
t had several waiting rooms, one of which was near the ticket booth. Several forensic agents were gathered around a bed. Yes, a bed. There was a woman on the bed who looked very similar to the first one.

  Going closer, I put my hand to my chest. The bed was the exact replica of the bed from the first murder. The woman was lying the same way, her head bent to the side. Blood was splattered up the back of the waiting room wall, which meant-

  “She was alive when he brought her here,” Logan said. “But there’s no signs of a struggle. So, either she trusted him, or he had some other means of getting her here.”

  Stepping forward, Kate closed her eyes. Her powers as a seer were valuable, but she hadn’t been able to decipher anything from her last vision. It had been far too hazy.

  “This is the same as the bedroom,” Jake said as he came over, holding an empty wand in his gloved hand.

  Sighing, Logan rubbed a hand over his face. “Yes, there’s a grimoire, too. The signs all point to one thing.”

  “Serial killer,” Dave muttered at the same time I did.

  Logan and Jake glanced at one another before looking at me. Their shared expression was one of concern. I didn’t blame them. The public had a field day with serial killers, and so did the government. Especially if it was a paranormal carrying out the attacks. Although Logan was a human, he knew the consequences of what could happen to us if we didn’t catch our killer before the news got out.

  “Who rang this in? Did staff find it before passengers arrived?”

  “So, that’s why your mother was there,” Dave said. “The report of a possible serial killer would instantly get the head of the agency’s attention.”

  Consulting his pad, Logan read a line or two before replying. “Yes, the station manager was the first to ring it in. This building isn’t open all night, which is handy for our suspect.”

  “I’ll do a search on the station manager, just to rule him out.” Dave didn’t even have to wait for me to ask, he knew the drill.

  “Thanks,” I muttered to him, smiling at Logan when he nodded.

  Kate suddenly gasped, her eyes flying open. Her gaze shot to the body before she strode over, almost knocking over a female forensics officer.

  Looking over to us, she pointed down at the bed. “Here. His energy is here again.”

  “You’ve both said he,” I said as we went over. “What makes you think our perp is male?”

  A shiver sent tingles up my spine as I got closer to the bed. That energy, I recognised it, but from where?

  “I saw a man in my first vision.” Kate allowed Jake to take photos of the area of the bed she’d pointed out. It looked normal to the naked eye, but I could feel the magic as much as Kate could.

  Logan pointed at the bullet wound in the woman’s chest. “Not only that, it looks like he’s specifically going for the heart. In my experience, people who are emotionally distant aim for the head. Those that have emotional ties to the killing will shoot through the heart.”

  “Now, that’s an impressive analysis,” Dave muttered in my ear. “Nothing fishy coming up for the station manager. Normal human.”

  “This is the same magic that was on the previous bed. We never got a DNA match on that, did we, Dave?”

  Logan knew I had a desk friend, so he didn’t bat an eyelid when I spoke to myself. Instead, he turned to Jake and discussed the same splatter pattern as the blood.

  “No, my book freak.” Dave chuckled to himself. “There’s no magical DNA that matches our suspects in the database. I farmed it out to all the top agencies and not one of them recognise it. Which means we have a powerful dude on our hands.”

  “Firstly,” I started as I stared at the wall. “I’m not your book freak. I’m just a regular book freak. Secondly, can you-?”

  “Wait!” he said into my ear, his voice going tense. “Go closer to the wall. No-” he interrupted as I put my foot forward. “...go to the end of the bed, let me look at the wall head on.”

  Frowning, I did as he said. He’d obviously seen something that I hadn’t. He had a habit of being able to see the small patterns that most eyes would miss. It was a shame he wasn’t an agent in the field, he would’ve been even more valuable.

  “Would you look at that?” he whispered.

  Tilting my head to the side, I tried to see what he did. “What am I looking at?”

  His breath sounded in my ear as his excitement built. “The blood splatter. It’s... wait, I’ll send it across otherwise you’ll never see it. Your brain isn’t capable.”

  “Hey!” I exclaimed, quite frankly offended. “I’ll have you know that my brain is supersonic awesomeness.”

  “Yes.” He sighed. “Full of stories.”

  If my phone hadn’t bleeped with his picture, I would’ve come up with a really good comeback, but as soon as the photo loaded on the screen in front of me, I swallowed hard, all banter forgotten.

  “Shit,” I muttered, staring at the lines that Dave had drawn with his digital skills. “That’s...”

  I couldn’t quite force the words out. The image of an Essex witch coat of arms was obvious now that Dave had pointed it out. How had the perp manipulated the blood so that the picture was formed when the woman was shot?

  “Dave...”

  “I’m loading the photo from the first scene. Yep, it has the same thing. Sending it now.”

  Almost the exact same photo came through on my phone, except for the location of the victims. Chills caused my muscles to shake as I stared. The coat of arms was ingrained on my mind. Any line of Essex witches were entitled to use the arms, even though the blood lines were pretty diluted. We’d had to move with modern times, considering how wrong it was to marry into the family. Essex witches had been extremely procreative so that our lines could become distant enough not to be affected by defects.

  “This is probably the work of PFF. They’re dead set on bringing the Essex line down. As you know. Both you and I must be on their hit list.”

  Although Dave’s words were soft, my chest squeezed. We were targets. My mother had trained me to fight so that I could stick up for my heritage. But, what was I really fighting for? At this moment in time, it was survival. Essex witches had been the royalty of witches for millennia. It wasn’t a surprise that others had become weary of their power.

  “We have no proof that it’s them,” I said, my gaze finally lifting from the screen.

  “Gemma,” Dave said quietly. “Don’t move yet.”

  “What?”

  The others were discussing what Kate had seen. They were talking in my direction, but not requiring my participation.

  “Someone’s watching you from the train track. I can just see the top of their head as they’re looking over the edge of the platform.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck prickled against my T-shirt. Whoever was there was obviously trying not to be seen, which meant that he wasn’t supposed to be there.

  “Who is it?” I whispered as I glanced back down at my phone.

  “No idea, I can’t get a good visual. You’re going to have to go for him.”

  Tracing the floor with my gaze, I rose it slightly, trying to catch the top of the person’s head so I could get an idea of where they were.

  “Okay,” I said quietly. “I’m going to pretend to go over to the others as I tuck my phone away.”

  When I saw the tiny strand of blonde hair, I turned my head to look at my team. They were analysing the blood splatter more closely. A part of me wondered if I should tell them about what Dave had found.

  Dave’s hummed affirmative made me focus. He knew my style, knew my moves. “Remember what Kate taught you about breathing. You have a habit of holding your breath when you run.”

  Taking two steps towards my team, I put my phone in my pocket before changing directions. My boots slammed against the concrete as I exited the waiting area onto the platform. The flash of hair darted down the rail tracks. My feet rebounded off the edge of the platform as I used it to prope
l me into the air.

  “Don’t forget to bend your knees,” Dave said.

  Landing in a crouch on a wooden rung between the train lines, I winced as my knees took the impact. The bastard was ridiculously fast as he legged it down the centre of the track I was on. I recognised his back straight away.

  “It’s Peter Mason,” I gasped as I went after him.

  Wind picked up my ponytail, making it fly back. The crunch of stones under my soles echoed as my breath rushed in and out of my lungs.

  “Oh, now that’s an interesting development. One that certainly links the crimes to PFF.” Dave’s voice was tight as he spoke. “Err... I hate to interrupt your perfectly adequate efforts, but a train is due to come through the station in about three minutes, so you might want to wrap this up. Now.”

  If my heart could explode out of my chest, it would’ve. Dave could’ve had the decency to notify me about the train before I’d jumped onto the tracks. Bloody desk friend.

  “I mean, it’s not such a big deal,” he muttered as the electric tracks on either side of me started to hum.

  The line bent to the left, making it hard for us to see the oncoming train. If I didn’t capture Peter now, it would be a wasted opportunity. Plus, the bastard had shot me. Killed me, even. It was time I made him pay. I’d have to sneak into his prison cell to hand him a personal punishment. Eww... that thought was a bit odd. Especially as we were potentially running towards a fucking train. If he didn’t get off the track before it came, he would be mincemeat himself. Meaning I got no one-on-one punishment time at all. I couldn’t let that happen.

  “You should probably use that ley line,” Dave said casually. “I don’t really want to watch the moment of impact.”

  “Bastard.” My words were muttered on a breath as I linked into the ley line.

  The power didn’t surge into me like it used to. Shit, the link was getting weaker. Was that because I was dead? Or because someone else was tampering with it?

  “I mean it. He’ll get hit first, which means tons of yuckiness. Then, you’ll be a goner, too. I don’t think I can handle it today.”